With The Passage Of Time
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Sango's past returns to haunt her. Luckily, Miroku is there to offer his support. Fluffy oneshot written for the 'change' prompt at mirsan fics.


**Author's Note: **This was written for the Livejournal community _**mirsan_fics **_for the prompt 'change'. Out of all the drabble challenges I have participated in, this is by far the hardest to write and my personal favourite.

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"_Sango? Where are you?"_

_I looked up from my hiding place among the flowers.. "Mother?" _

_She was standing in the tall grass beside the path. I ran to her and flung my arms around her waist, breathing in her scent of jasmine._

_She tilted my face upward, wiping my dirt-streaked cheeks with her palms. "Have you been crying, Sango?"_

_I sniffed. "Father said I should be a proper lady like you, Mother. But I want to learn to fight youkai like he and the slayers! He said I should just stay at home and learn my place and forget all about fighting." _

_She stroked my hair. "Let me share something with you. I want you to remember it always."_

_I looked up expectantly._

"_Sango, nobody is perfect. We are all different, that is what makes us special. Never change yourself for anyone, nor force anyone to change for you." I remember the suddenly wistful expression on her face as she looked away into the distance even as my four-year-old brain struggled to understand her words._

"_I don't understand, Mother. What does that mean?"_

_She had laughed softly, pushing back my unruly fringe, cupping my dirt-streaked face between her palms. "Someday when you're older, you'll understand." Taking my hand in hers, she led me back towards the village. "I'll speak to your father tonight."_

I cherished the memory as one of the precious few I had of her: her hair lifted by the wind to frame her face, her warm and gentle hands, her sparkling eyes full of life and laughter the exact same shade of brown as my own.

Mother died a few months later while bringing Kohaku into the world. I treasured him as her last gift to Father and me, yet I failed her in my duty as an older sister, failed to protect him.

I lay awake one night, wondering what would have happened had I not forced Kohaku into the life of a slayer, a question that had caused me many sleepless nights. He was – is – such a gentle boy, ill-suited for the daily bloodshed and rigorous discipline. I rolled over, pressing my face into my pillow to muffle my sobs as I wondered whether he would have been spared this terrible half-life he leads now if only I had dissuaded Father from training him. If only I had understood his fears. If only I had noticed the spider demon's trap earlier.

If only.

Kohaku was a quiet, shy boy who did not deserve to die the way he did, his slight frame riddled with arrows as he lay in a pool of his own blood in the dusty castle courtyard. Even now, his frightened face still haunts me, almost a year past to the day.

"Sango?"

I gave a start. Miroku was leaning over me, the worried expression on his face barely visible in the gloom of the night.

"Is everything alright, Sango?"

I sat up. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Houshi-sama." Turning away, I dabbed roughly at my face with my sleeve.

"You were crying. What's wrong?"

"I wasn't crying! I… It's nothing."

He was silent for a heartbeat. "You can talk to me. I'm here." I felt his hand on mine, squeezing it gently. The simple gesture caused my eyes to prickle, fresh tears welling up in them.

"I… I was thinking about… Kohaku. If only I hadn't… forced him to be a slayer. He – he was such a kind and gentle boy… I thought I could change him into something – something he could never be…" My voice was thick with tears as guilt gnawed at my insides.

Cradling the back of my head in his free hand, he gently brought my face down to his chest, the well-worn cloth of his kesa soft against my skin. Putting my arms around his waist, I inhaled his clean masculine scent. Miroku let me cry into his robes, just holding me until I calmed down.

"Don't ever change, Houshi-sama. Please," I mumbled into his chest as my mother's words echoed in my mind. The comforting sensation of his body against mine soothed me more than words ever could. His heart beat steadily under my ear, his chest rising and falling slightly with every breath. I closed my eyes, losing myself in him.

Miroku's palm caressed my cheek. "I won't, Sango. I promise." I relaxed into him, letting his warmth enfold me as it triggered the memory of that warm summer day years ago with my mother.

Miroku is my rock, my anchor. Despite his being a lecher and pervert, I loved him completely and unconditionally for who he was. Forcing him to change for me would only hurt the both of us.

That cold winter night, in Miroku's arms, I finally understood what Mother had been trying to tell me.


End file.
